In the Shadow of the Flames
by Becca Stareyes
Summary: Several months after the Destiny War, Asturian's northern border is troubled by a rogue guymelef. Sir Allen Schezar is sent to deal with it, but Zaibach's shadow still falls on his family, as Celena struggles to tell her brother the truth. Spoilers
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**

This is a re-write of a story under the same name that I started in 2003 and never finished. It's done now thanks to the sfifibigbang over on Livejournal, and I'll be posting it over the next month or so. I'd like to thank my beta-reader and general cheerleader, Yuuo, and SanadaFaye, who dis some manips as illustrations. (Available on my writing LJ.)

* * *

Smoke. The scent of blood. The feel of strong arms around her, even felt through leather. Before that, it was a sea of haze, more feelings and images than actual memories.

"Easy, Celena. I got you." The owner of the arms was guiding her towards her right. She struggled to make her eyes focus, to look over towards something that was just a dark blur against the gray skies.

The blur of gold and blue resolved itself into a face. Brother. Sir Allen Schezar, Knight Caeli of Asturia. Her knees buckled at the sudden rush of memories, but Brother's arms around her steadied her. "I have you. We're almost to the _Crusade_."

She could hear the different sound their boots made, from packed earth to perforated metal, as they stepped up the ramp. She squinted, taking her eyes off of Brother's face, but couldn't make her eyes focus. Figures moved to blot out the lights, too many shadows flowing across her sight. She stiffened, causing Brother to murmur more encouragements under his breath.

"Boss, what-?" The speaking shadow was male, and he stopped moving, stepped forward enough for Celena to see the outline of a head against the brilliance.

"Gaddes, this is my sister, Celena," Brother said, a commanding tone more suited for a battlefield than an introduction. The men were Brother's soldiers, and she tried to fill in the shadows with Asturian uniforms, but the details just slid into black and blue armor. "She'll need a quiet place to recover, and a change of clothing. Teo, go find out if the princess or Hitomi left anything on-board."

"But, Boss-"

"That's an order. The rest of you, get ready to cast off. We're sitting ducks when we're grounded." His arms guided Celena forward, into the light of the... airship, if it was casting off.

She wanted to tell Brother not to worry, as he lead her within the belly of the ship. Zaibach wouldn't hurt them. But there was another memory. Her brother's guymelef fleeing from Zaibach's mirages, Alseides units.

What had happened to her?

By the time she was taken to a tiny cabin, her eyes had adapted. She sat down on the slim bunk Brother had led her to, looking at him for any sign about what would happen next. He didn't speak at first, only grabbing a small stool. The room was cramped, even with just the two of them there.

He took her hand, through her gloves. "Don't worry, Celena I'll take care of everything. You just need to rest, right now." He paused, then added, "it's good to have you back."

"Where...?"

"You're on the _Crusade_. That's my airship. You'll be safe here. Don't worry; just try to rest."

There were more questions - what was happening? She couldn't focus enough to ask that, couldn't make the memories work together. Maybe Brother was right, and sleep would help.

There was a knock at the hatch. "Boss? I couldn't find anything ladylike, so I just brought the smallest set of clothes I could find. They're clean. Don't worry."

Brother sighed, and she could see his eyebrow developing a bit of a twitch. She leaned forward, trying to see what would happen between him and the voice. Teo, it had been. He stood up, hand at the latch. "Celena? I'm going to leave you alone to change. Is that all right?"

She nodded. "You'll be outside, right?" It was the most she had spoken since... for a while, and her voice sounded high and tinny to her ears. She shook her head, and swallowed, trying to clear dust and the taste of metal from her tongue.

"I need to talk to the men about... about something," Brother said. "You should change and lie down, and I'll bring you back something to eat, if you're not ready to sleep quite yet." He opened the hatch, taking a bundle of clothing from hands outside, and handed them to her. They were the worn softness of fabric that had been washed often enough to fade, and smelled faintly of soap. She unfolded them, pressing them flat with shaky hands. Brother nodded. "I'll get you something more suitable later, I promise." And then he was gone, leaving her with only the gentle swaying of the ship as company, and she had to fight back a shudder.

She changed quickly, and curled up under the blanket, head to the bulkhead, straining to hear the sounds of voices. She remembered...

... she remembered the _Vione_, which was too big to sway, and built as much out of levistone as the wood and metal of normal airships. The walls there hummed with the power of generators, and clanged with the echos of bootsteps on metal.

Here, she could hear the wind most of all, like they were being blown instead of driving their own flight. But this was Brother's place; it would be safe for her. Even if she didn't remember how she got here... what did she remember?

Someone screaming that she could be Celena again, that it would be all right -

- the flutter of soft wings, the crunch as they collapsed within her hand, the terror -

- the feel of thorns against bare feet. These woods were familiar, and her feet were carrying her _home_ -

- pain, light, and she wants it to stop, it hurts so bad -

- the white guymelef moves like a ghost and she sees it strike down her men, one by one, as if it is some kind of avenging dragon from Hell. She screams at it, screams at it to leave her men alone, bringing her arms up in battle-trained reflexes to attack, knowing that it was useless, that the monster was coming for her -

She jerked awake, nearly hitting her head on the bulkhead, and pulled herself to a seated position. She grabbed for the comforting, holding the sound of Brother's voice, the feel of his arms, the presence of him, to banish these demons she conjured. She was safe here; Brother had said so.

What had happened to her?


	2. Chapter 2

Allen knew this room well; it was used when the king - the old king - or the leader of the Knights Caeli had called briefings. It was simple for a room in the palace, an officer's place with leather furniture and a sand table concealed with a false top. Maps of Asturia and the surrounding countries hung on the wall instead of tapestries and portraits.

It was entirely out of place seeing the Princess - no, Queen Millerna, and he would have to stop making these slips, even in his head - standing at the head of the table, in those odd foreign trousers she still insisted on. The queen hadn't explained much in her letter requesting his attendance, merely that there was a military matter she wanted his opinion on. Allen had assumed it would be a private audience, with her asking questions that her advisors couldn't explain, not a gathering of other men.

The audience seemed split between the richly-dressed, some wearing mayors' chains of office, while others he recognized as nobility or wearing their devices, and those in soldiers' or knights' uniforms, though Allen thought he saw a couple of the castle's clerks near the back. People were still filing in as a pair of servants tacked a map up behind the queen.

The queen cleared her throat, but it didn't seem to be enough to draw the attention of the crowd. "Excuse me? Shall we start?" A few people looked over, but the back of the room didn't seem to notice their queen was waiting for their attention.

Allen opened his mouth, ready to shout in his best parade-ground voice, but Millerna was faster. Waving off her attendant, she reached for the candle-snuffer a servant had left in a corner, and struck the wall; not hard enough to damage either, but enough to cause everyone assembled to look at her, like a bunch of boys caught talking by their schoolmarm.

"Now that I have your attention, shall we begin?" Queen Millerna set the candle-snuffer back into its corner, where a servant hurried to remove it. The remaining men standing quickly shuffled to seats, and Allen joined them, settling into a cushioned bench.

"A recent series of attacks have occurred on our northern border." The queen tapped spots on the map, barely seeming to see what she was looking at. "The targets appear to be non-military - farming villages." She looked drawn, and Allen could understand why. The war had tired all of them out, and Millerna had never been a soldier, despite the physician training that she had snuck without her father's knowledge. "There was significant loss of life, and buildings and crops burned. In all cases, the assailant vanished before the local garrisons were able to arrive." Allen wasn't surprised. Even in the north, where the border with Zaibach was, the war had left them shorthanded with men and equipment. And no one could be everywhere at once. "Sir Dahlgren was first on the scene."

She motioned and a young man stood up. No, he was Allen's age, but still had a bit of a boyish look to him. He had the device of one of the less prestigious orders of knighthood, and he fussed with his shirt as the attention turned towards him. "Ah, right. Um... that's correct, Your Majesty. What my men and I found indicates it was a single melef attacking, probably not anyone on foot or horseback."

The room broke into an uproar. Millerna waited for a moment, then clapped her hands. "Go on," she told Sir Dahlgren, once the noise died to murmurs. The men in the room had been chastised by the queen's means of calling the meeting to order, that she was now able to command with merely her hands and voice.

Or not. One of the nobles stood up, shoving his chair back hard enough that it teetered. "Do you know what this means?" he asked. Not giving anyone a chance to answer, he continued. "Zaibach must have concealed some of their weapons, so they could strike back at us for winning the war. Or else Fanelia-"

"Fanelia's capital city was completely destroyed in the opening salvos of the war," Allen said, louder than he meant to. "You might as well suppose giants from the Mystic Moon. And, you can ask those soldiers who supervised Zaibach's disarmament whether or not they could hide a melef." "Not near the border," someone else spoke. "We were extra careful to clear those areas out near the capital and the borders. Maybe in pieces, but it would need to be hauled to the capital for reconstruction, and the occupying forces would notice."

The queen nodded. "Thank you, Sir Schezar, Captain Percival, for your military advice. Duke Veris," she turned to address the noble who had stood up, "there is one more thing Sir Dahlgren told me that I would like him to repeat for the benefit of you all. After that, you may ask questions, though Sir Schezar's military advice may be called for again."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The noble, Duke Veris, bowed, and took his seat again, but didn't bother to school his displeasure. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut on military matters, then, not that Allen would say that aloud.

"Pray, continue, Sir Dahlgren," the queen said.

Sir Dahlgren nodded, but his eyes were on Veris and not the queen, or the assembled audience. "Um, yes. Of course, Your Majesty. This was found at one of the burned villages. I just took a bit to bring here, as proof." His hand darted within his jacket, removing a packet of paper from a pocket on the lining. He broke the seal and pushed it to the center of the table. Allen leaned forward to examine the contents and caught those seated near him doing the same.

Instead of a letter, as he had expected from the paper and wax seal, it was a collection of half-burnt twigs. Something shiny caught his eye, and he craned his neck to get a better look. "Is that... liquid metal?"

"We thought so, but you're the expert, Sir Schezar."

"The only thing that uses that are the Zaibach Alseides units," Allen replied.

"So it was Zaibach!" Veris slammed his hands down on the table, causing everyone to look up at him. "So beating them once wasn't enough - we'll have to take them on again!"

Allen cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, if I may."

"Of course, Sir Schezar." Millerna nodded to him. "You have the floor." She, too, was looking at Veris and Allen caught a slight narrowing of her eyes.

"Zaibach was disarmed." He stood up. "I'm sure several of the commanders in this room can attest to that." Good, a few of the military men were nodding. "It could be that we missed a single guymelef far from the front or the industrial centers. It could also be that another country was deliberately using Zaibach technology to provoke a response."

The room exploded again. "Like Fanelia!" Veris shouted.

Allen shook his head. "They would be the least likely - their capital was destroyed, and even if their king didn't have strong bonds of friendship and treaties with the royal family," and Allen refused to believe Van would do such a thing, and deception on this magnitude was the antithesis of his personality, "they would not want to provoke another conflict so soon after their losses in war, especially with a strong nation like Asturia. For that matter, even using Zaibach as a distraction would be foolish - having us patrolling our border with Zaibach would not draw our forces far enough from Fanelia. I would be more inclined to suspect a country to the south for such a plot."

Queen Millerna nodded. "Thank you, Sir Schezar. I suspect we won't be able to know for sure until the guymelef pilot is found and captured." She raised her voice. "I'll be sending reserve troops to the northern garrisons from Palas. Those of you on city councils and in the nobility are to call up your militias for lookout - I assume you've been drilling on use of signal flares and flags? In addition, Sir Schezar, as one of our experts on fighting Zaibach melefs, I'm dispatching you and the _Crusade_ to the north on patrol. Are there any questions?"

"I have one," Veris said. "How do you intend to pay for the fact you're ordering our peasants to guard our land? We've got crops to harvest, and that damn war left us shorthanded."

The Queen straightened up. "I am leaving the deployment of the extra troops to their commanders, who will know better than any one of us civilians, what the best use of them will be. As for your crops, Alaric," she turned to Veris, "the few men you'd need to post a guard won't make a difference. We already expect the north will be eating from the stores this winter, thanks to the war, and that will be handled." The last was said with special emphasis. Duke Veris made a sort of hmph sound, but remained silent. The queen nodded. "Then this meeting is dismissed. I'll leave you to your preparations."

Most of the room stood, and with a flurry of bows, left. Allen was careful to watch to make sure Veris, and those who had nodded while he was talking, were gone before he rose. "Sir Schezar, will you hold for a moment?" Millerna asked.

Allen tucked the bench back into place. "Of course, Your Majesty." He watched the rest of the room file out, waiting for the queen to speak.

"I think that went well, don't you?" Millerna perceptively relaxed once all but Allen and the pair of servants had left. "A lot of those men aren't really inclined to listen to a young woman, even if she is their queen."

"It's not surprising." If she hadn't been speaking so much sense, he might have dismissed her worries as well, though never in public. A kingdom needed a strong ruler, and Millerna's flighty husband was who knew where, so Queen Millerna was it. And as both her friend and a loyal Asturian Knight, Allen was going to make sure Millerna was the strong ruler Asturia needed.

"Some of them will remember next time. If I keep it up, then it becomes matter of fact." She smiled at him, and Allen wondered how much strain being the authority figure was for her. Not as much as it would have been a year ago, he was forced to admit. The war had turned many people Millerna and Van's age from children to adults.

"Is that what you wanted to ask me? How I thought you commanded the meeting?"

"Actually, it wasn't. I need to get some facts confirmed from you, about Zaibach during the Destiny War."

"I don't know how much help I can be. You know what I was doing during the war, but a family emergency called me back to Palas for the aftermath. Someone like that captain would be better to talk to about reconstruction."

"It's something I know you can help me with. I can speak to the commanders of the allied forces by letter later, or their representative here." Millerna paused. "Since Sir Dahlgren brought the news of these attacks, I've had clerks confirming the location of all of the high-ranking officers in the Zaibach military. And the civil service and the sorcerers, but for other reasons. Most of the officers were captured or were killed in battle, but if one did escape, he could prove to be a rallying point for a resistance."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Tell me, Sir Schezar, how certain are you that Dilandau Albatou is dead?"

Allen felt his heart drop into his stomach. His first thought was 'does the queen know about Celena?'. Suddenly the room's other occupants - Millerna, the two servants still shifting furniture back into place, and the door, still open a crack - occupied all his perceptions. He realized the queen was waiting for an answer, so he stalled. "Your Majesty?"

"You were the one who reported his death, and we did recover and destroy his Alseides unit, but no body was ever located. Van confirmed the death, or I'd be worried. But if both of you are sure..."

"We _are_ sure," Allen said. So the queen didn't know anything about Celena. She just wanted his verbal confirmation about Dilandau's death.

"If you don't mind me asking, why?"

Allen again glanced at the servants, who were ignoring the conversation as they worked. Millerna followed his gaze, then turned back to him. "Is it some military secret?" She frowned, looking into his eyes as if she had some ability to read the truth from his gaze. Then, with a jerk of her head, she turned towards the servants. "Please leave us. And close the door."

The two servants set down the final chair. Allen tracked them with his eyes until they pulled the door shut and then turned back to Millerna. "Well?" she said.

"Dilandau's death?" Allen said, thinking how to frame it so the queen would believe him. Or maybe it would be better if she didn't believe it all. Disbelief would keep Celena safe. "First of all, I'd ask that this information never be disclosed."

"Allen, I can't promise that until I hear what has you so worked up." Allen almost wished he was talking to the girlish princess infatuated with him that she had been a year ago. That Millerna would promise him in a heartbeat. But that Millerna wouldn't be able to deal with this crisis, not like the queen had. "But," the queen continued, "I _do_ trust you. If you think that it won't be a threat to Asturia or the crown-"

"It won't!"

"-then, I'll swear to it as soon as I hear what it is."

Allen realized she would stand there until the world ended, or he finally told her the truth. He couldn't lie to her - it would be dishonorable to lie to his liege, and it wasn't like he could think of a good lie off the cuff. He took a deep breath. "Dilandau was a product of the Zaibach sorcerers, as you know. I confirmed this with Folken Fanel, when he defected. Re-defected." And were Folken's motivation not so close to home, Allen wouldn't trust the strategos as far as he could throw him. Millerna nodded, listening. "They were experimenting under Dornkirk's orders, to see how much they could alter someone's fate. Whatever they did, it didn't outlast Zaibach." He hadn't mentioned Celena yet. Perhaps he wouldn't have to.

Millerna considered this. "So, you are saying that Dilandau Albatou is dead, because he has become whoever he was before the Zaibach sorcerers started their experiments."

"Exactly." This wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be.

"Where is he now?"

"Pardon?"

"This... proto-Dilandau, or not-Dilandau, whoever he is," Millerna said. "I'm willing to grant amnesty to one of Zaibach's victims, but I need to know for sure that Dilandau's actions were not under his control."

"Your Majesty! Millerna," Allen said, as he struggled to keep control of his emotions, "she was just a little girl when they took her! She doesn't remember a thing from all those years." He knew Millerna could read his face like a book.

"She?" Millerna frowned, and didn't speak, then her eyes widened in surprise. When she continued, it was in a soft voice. "Allen... you told me that you had found your younger sister, who had been missing for ten years. You don't mean to tell me that Celena..." She reached back for a chair, and pulled it over, sitting down hard.

Allen should be sitting down too, but he remained standing. "You see why I would like to keep the matter secret," he answered, voice barely above a whisper.

Millerna nodded. "She remembers nothing?"

Allen shook his head. "Very little. She doesn't act like the child she was." As she had when she had first appeared, when the sorcerers' work was still disintegrating. "But few actual memories. Just enough to give her nightmares." Which she was hiding from Allen. She might try to put on a brave face, but he could hear her pacing at night, only to hear her footsteps clamor for the bed when he walked down the hall to her room. "You can check Dilandau Albatou off your list. He is dead and gone. Only Celena remains."

Millerna nodded. "Thank you, Allen. This must be hard for you." She looked down, as if the words were a bare offering after raking him over the coals without meaning to. "You have my word as Queen of Asturia that no one will hear of this from me. In the unlikely event that anyone else does need to know, it will be at your discretion."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Allen said.

"There aren't any other people we've met that are secretly related to you, though?" Millerna asked, half a smile appearing on her face. "If I'm not careful, the next thing you'll be telling me is that Hitomi was your second cousin."

"No, I think you now hold all the skeletons in the Schezar family wardrobe." Allen said. "If that's everything, I'll start my preparations. Would you and Princess Eries mind keeping an eye on Celena for a bit longer?"

"Not at all," Millerna said. "You know she's welcome here at any time. I'll just go tell her you'll be a little late."


	3. Chapter 3

Celena hadn't known what a young lady 'of quality' was supposed to do with her time, since she had been too young to notice what her mother did, and Dilandau Albatou was exactly the wrong sort of person to be allowed near young upper-class ladies, even if Zaibach had them and he had given a damn about anything outside the military.

Most of what Princess Eries thought a young lady should be doing was staying somewhere quiet and looking pretty, and Brother normally left things to the princess's judgment. It made Celena wonder how Queen Millerna had done things like study medicine with such a nursemaid for an older sister, but perhaps around Millerna, Eries didn't act like she was going to eat the house plants if left unattended.

Celena shifted uncomfortably, certain that whoever designed women's dress clothing had no idea what it was like to actually wear it. She had spent the first week home with Brother in cut-down versions of his own cast-offs until he could bring in a seamstress to make her 'proper' clothing. She had gotten used to most of the clothing that had been sent over, but anything that she was allowed to wear to the palace was usually overly decorated, loose in places where she'd get extra fabric caught in things and tight in places where she'd have to move. She had heard that Queen Millerna was trying to encourage Egzardian women's fashion to take hold in Palas, and as far as Celena was concerned, it couldn't happen fast enough.

Celena had put her book down when she'd realized that she had been reading the same page over and over, and now was involved in staring out the window and wondering if she could slip off without Eries noticing. There had to be something interesting going on elsewhere.

The door opened, and Queen Millerna entered, waving off any attempt of either woman to stand up before Celena could so much as figure out how to stand without tripping. "We've finished up," she explained. "Allen asked me to tell you he would be prepping the _Crusade_ for some business I asked him to look into."

"Business?" Celena asked.

Millerna nodded. "A military matter I asked him to help with. He has a few things to do in the city before he sets out, so he asked me to tell you."

Celena nodded. "So, he's leaving soon?" She knew it would come eventually. Brother had some kind of leave because of her, but that couldn't last.

Eries cleared her throat. "Is this a matter for polite conversation?"

Millerna gave her sister a cool stare back. "Allen asked me to tell his sister what I could."

"What can you tell me?" Celena asked.

"He'll be patrolling the northern border. We've had some trouble there."

"Is it Zaibach?" Celena asked. She knew that the mere subject would make Allen uncomfortable. Any acknowledgement of what came from Zaibach might poke holes in the family he had been trying to reconstruct for her. But Zaibach was to the north, and Celena couldn't think of what else could be causing trouble there. Maybe if Brother and Princess Eries let her learn a bit more about Asturia's politics...

Millerna nodded. "It shouldn't be a big problem, but we're trying to not draw attention to it. I'm sure Allen can tell you more details later."

Celena met the queen's eyes. Surely she didn't actually believe that. Millerna had to know what kind of person Brother had become, even better than Celena herself. "Do you _really_ think so?"

"I'm certain Sir Allen will tell you," Princess Eries replied for her sister.

"Celena," Millerna said. "will you walk with me?"

"Of course," she said, standing up and straightening the arrangements of skirts so she could walk comfortably. "Thank you for spending time with me, Your Highness." Celena managed a curtsey in her direction and she nodded stiffly.

The Palace halls were well lit, and Millerna guided her on a route towards the gardens. "How are you and your brother doing?"

"Well enough, your Majesty," Celena answered, not sure what the queen was getting at.

"Really? Allen can be a bit..." Millerna paused, waiting for Celena to fill in the blank. When she stayed silent, Millerna continued, "well, I'm sure you know how he is. He means well, though."

Celena nodded. "He does." But Brother lived in his own world, one that ran mostly according to reality, but seemed to have a sister-shaped hole in it. A hole that pinched Celena when she tried to fit herself into it. "Will he be gone long?" She wasn't sure what answer she wanted - Brother might be stifling, but a world without him nearby scared her. He had been the one constant in her life since she returned home, and the one tie to her early, happy days. Before Zaibach, before the sorcerers, and before being Dilandau. Millerna shook her head. "I don't know. As long as it takes."

"I see. This isn't just a 'make sure there are no more stray bands of soldiers that need to be sent home, is it? It has a purpose."

"An Alseides unit escaped destruction, so Allen will be helping in the search."

Celena narrowed her eyes. "That's..."

That's crazy! Allen had fought such things before, but it scared Celena to think of him along. _I could help. I know more about Zaibach than anyone here._ She could keep Brother safe, or safer. But it would mean getting Brother to accept what she had been.

Millerna put a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Celena. He'll come back fine."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Celena said, honestly. "I just wish there was something I could do." She could try to tell Millerna what she knew. But she remembered that Dilandau was a war criminal. Brother was safe, because Brother loved her unconditionally, to the point of risking death from Dilandau, and death from Van Fanel for protecting her. Millerna was harder to tell. Could Celena convince her she knew what Dilandau knew, remembered what he remembered, but she was _not_ Dilandau any more? She'd have better luck with Brother.

"It's not easy, but I'm sure you can find a way to be of help," Millerna said.

Celena nodded, a plan starting to form in her head. "I think I will."

Allen had sent a runner back to ask Gaddes to bring the _Crusade_ out from the countryside to Palas's airship docks, and to supervise the loading. Allen had already checked that Sherazarde had been secured, and the spare parts for the guymelef - those that could be replaced in the field - loaded and checked. Now he was at liberty, since Gaddes could handle the crew and didn't need his superior officer looking over his shoulder.

He thought he saw a flash of color dart between the pallets. Probably just a bluetit, he thought, but it happened again, enough to make him wonder how big the city birds were getting.

The third glimpse of the 'bird', he started walking towards the pallets himself. Most of his crew was wearing worn clothing that didn't match the brightness of the color he had seen. He waved Gaddes off when the other man noticed his approach. "I thought I saw something," he explained. "Please, continue with loading."

Gaddes shrugged. "Whatever you say, Boss."

He circled the pallet of crates he last saw the blue disappear behind, and thought he heard the sound of footsteps slightly above the noise of the docks. A half-turn around, and he was mostly out of sight of the _Crusade_'s open hatch, but whoever had been there wasn't. "Hmm..." Allen said. He examined the boxes, which were only piled to about chest height. Someone could crouch behind them, if they were small. Placing his hands up onto the crates, he vaulted over them, landing on the other side.

Celena straightened up from a crouch, looking quite surprised to suddenly see him land in front of her. It had been her blue skirts that he had seen earlier, out of the corner of his eyes as she had been moving about. "Good afternoon, Brother," she said, curtsying.

"Celena," Allen folded his arms. "What do you think you are doing?"

She straightened her clothing and smiled at him, the picture of a young lady, aside from the smudges from her skirts training on the ground. "Right now? Talking to you."

"You know what I mean." It was the kind of smart answer he hadn't expected from Celena. "Actually, I'm worried. I spoke to Millerna and..."

"Her Majesty, not Millerna. You spoke to her and...?" Millerna had promised that she wouldn't speak of Celena's connection to Dilandau, but he wasn't sure if her promise applied to speaking to Celena herself of the connection. All it would result in was worsening Celena's nightmares, and Allen hoped the queen was wise enough to realize this.

"She couldn't tell me much, but it still sounded very dangerous. I was worried about you, Brother, and thought that coming along would make me feel safer. I could even help."

Going into a dangerous situation was the last thing he wanted Celena to do. "It would worry _me_, Celena. I couldn't protect you _and_ do what the queen asked me. If you got into danger, I don't know what I'd do." Probably disobey orders, rescue her, and then deal with the trouble this would cause later. It wouldn't be the first time he'd have to deal with the repercussions of his gut reaction, and it wouldn't be the last.

"The same for me. I can take care of myself, Brother."

_No, you can't_. Celena had come back with very few practical skills, though she would occasionally surprise him. "As can I. This is part of my job, Celena, and you'll have to learn to deal with it."

"I'm just... what if I never see you again?" Celena frowned, taking Allen's arm.

"It's just a routine mission, Celena. And the field isn't a place for a young lady," Allen said. At least his men behaved around their boss's little sister. They had also learned to adapt to Hitomi, Van's beastgirl companion, and the queen.

"That doesn't change things. I know all these things, but... you're all I have left." She looked like she was about to cry.

Allen sighed. He couldn't stand the thought of Celena alone and feeling miserable as he left. "You can come with us, if you promise to stay in the _Crusade_, or places _I_ deem safe. And no arguing."

Celena's face brightened like the clouds had suddenly parted to show the sun. "Thank you, Brother!" She jumped up to throw her arms around Allen, giving him an unexpected hug.

"Excuse me?" Allen turned, Celena shifting to stand next to him, and saw the young knight from the meeting, Sir Dahlgren. "Am I interrupting something?"

"I was discussing my absence from the capital with my sister," Allen answered, unsure what Dahlgren wanted.

"Your sister?" Dahlgren looked from Allen to Celena. Celena gave him a curious look back.

"That's right - Celena, this is Sir Dahlgren, a knight of the realm." Allen realized he didn't know the man's personal name, and that he probably should find out sooner or later. Better yet, find out the names of all the commanders along the border, if only so he could address his messages properly. "Sir Dahlgren, this is my sister, the Honorable Celena Schezar."

"A pleasure to meet you, Madam," Sir Dahlgren bowed, and Celena gave a short curtsy.

"Brother, I left my bag in the carriage," Celena said. "I'll just go get it and load it on the _Crusade_, shall I?"

"You have your bag packed?" Allen asked. Had she played him for a fool?

"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd have me staying at the palace if Her Majesty's business ran long," Celena explained. Allen wondered if this meant she'd have his old castoffs instead of her own dresses. Surely not, despite the queen's influence on fashion - cut down man's clothing was still nothing a young woman of breeding could wear, and she had agreed to not wear it when going out, or entertaining guests. And neither of them had known he'd be called away like this.

"Fine. Go on, then. Be back quickly." Allen waved to her, and she smiled, walking off with a bounce in her step. "Now," he said, turning to Sir Dahlgren, "you were saying?"

Sir Dahlgren nodded. "Ah, yes. That's a wonderful airship you have there. Um... I was wondering if you were heading towards Themis?"

"We might be. Why?" Allen asked. Themis was the closest sizable town to Asturia's northwestern border, where Zaibach, Fanelia and Asturia met. Allen's own former post was south of that, so he knew the area, where the mountains that covered much of Fanelia marked the border.

"Well, I'm stationed near there," Sir Dahlgren said. "With the troubles, I don't like being away from my men. I could ride back, but it would be days before I got there."

"Themis is in the Duchy of Veris, isn't it?" Allen frowned, remembering the outspoken duke had been present at the meeting.

Sir Dahlgren looked away. "Well, the duke does have his own airship, but it's not a fast model. He's asked our assistance to service it on occasion, and if yours is anywhere up to military standards, it could do circles around his. It still would be faster than riding, I suppose, unless Her Majesty or someone authorized the courier stations to assist me." Allen suspected that part of the reason Dahlgren was so reluctant to ride back with Veris was more to do with the duke than his airship.

"Fine. But I want to take off before anyone else decides I can give them a free ride out." Allen looked at the direction Celena had gone, then at Sir Dahlgren.

"Thank you, Sir Schezar!" Sir Dahlgren gave him a boyish grin that made Allen wonder how old the man really was. "I look forward to the trip. I've heard so much about your actions during the war, and can't wait to ask you some questions about guymelef combat."

It was going to be a long trip. Allen caught sight of Celena returning, bag in hand, and waved her to hurry up. Best to just get airborne and pray for favorable winds.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Allen had reached the border, he had only wanted to drop Sir Dahlgren off the airship twice, which counted as remarkable patience on his part. The young man seemed to have some ability to tell when his long question-and-answer sessions were getting boring, and Allen found he could pass off in-air maintenance, under Gaddes's supervision, as an excuse to learn in practice what the young man knew in theory. It was the age-old excuse of drill sergeants and knights to get the routine chores done in a timely fashion.

What was more frustrating was that he'd go to check on progress and find Celena working in borrowed clothing alongside his men. The _Crusade_ was a bit shorthanded, and he had told Celena she could help with meal preparation in the air, since it was a safe, womanly thing that would keep her out from underfoot. And it wasn't like Celena's cooking was any worse than the men's. Really air rations were designed to keep well and be nourishing enough to let a man fight on them, and taste was a distant third at best.

By the time they landed at Green River Garrison, Sir Dahlgren's post, Allen would be happy to take a day grounded and free from the confines of an airship to plan his patrols. The queen had ordered him to coordinate over the entire border, and that couldn't be done easily by the seat of his pants. Thankfully, Sir Dahlgren was happy to provide use of his charts.

Allen spread a map out onto the table in Sir Dahlgren's quarters. He had to admit, it was a nice bit of cartography - based on the standard grade one printed in Palas for military use, but someone had sketched in notes about air currents and elevations in colored ink over the terrain. Very handy for airships. "Hmm," Allen said. "Did you do this?" He tapped at one of the denser spots, a tricky canyon passage where the river twisted down from the mountains.

"Yes. Modern warfare is a special interest of mine," Sir Dahlgren said. "On my patrols, I've been updating the charts while I take my melef out."

Allen frowned. "Not at the expense of your duties, I hope."

"Of course not!" Sir Dahlgren said quickly. "Until this recent incursion, things have been mostly quiet. Most trouble can be dealt with by a small group of the men, or the village militias around here."

"So you decided machinery-friendly cartography would make an interesting hobby." Weird man, but Allen wasn't going to argue with him since it would make his job easier when he was in range of Dahlgren's maps.

"I really do think melefs and airships are the future of modern warfare," Dahlgren started in on a speech that Allen had heard at least two times on the way here. It sounded more like something that should be given to the generals and the queen, and Allen was starting to be able to recite bits of it himself.

The good news was that he didn't need to cut off Sir Dahlgren's speech with a reminder that the young man was repeating himself again. The bad news was because both of them looked up to hear a thunderous voice coming down the hallway toward the room.

The door was thrown open. "What is the meaning of this?" Duke Veris stormed up to the table, and Allen quickly rolled up the map, lest it be damaged.

"What is the meaning of what?" Allen asked, before Sir Dahlgren could say anything. The younger man looked rather like a deer facing down a pack of wolves, so Allen figured he should step in. Maybe try the old Schezar charm, though that was less useful in calming irate nobles than it was in... well, charming them.

He saw one of Dahlgren's soldiers slip in behind Veris. The soldier saluted. "Sorry, sir. I couldn't stop him."

"This... this goon refused to allow the _Paradise_ to dock," Veris pointed at the soldier, who had assumed a bland 'standing at attention' pose.

Allen glanced at Sir Dahlgren again. "The _Paradise_?"

"It's His Grace's airship," Sir Dahlgren answered, before Veris could explain. "The garrison is the only place in the duchy where airship repairs can be done, so we've serviced it before."

"I see..." Allen nodded. "There is only one dock in the garrison, Your Grace, and the _Crusade_, my own airship, is currently there until we arrange our patrols, as Her Majesty requested."

"And how _is_ that going, Sir Schezar?" Veris put his hand on the table, leaning on it. "You _are_ serious about this new threat, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Allen replied. "Which is why I am trusting that the fine men stationed on the border now to hold the line." Truthfully, he was rushing though his preparations as quickly as possible, but something about Duke Veris made him want to dawdle. He quashed that thought quickly - disrespect for lawful authority was unsuited to a knight, even when the authority was a pompous ass. "We are nearly done, and then I and the _Crusade_ will be in the air. Barring a catastrophic accident or an attack, we will not be back for some time - this is not a central location for the attacks."

There was a loud clang, as if someone was banging a metal platter outside. "That's the alarm," Sir Dahlgren said. "The men on lookout or a patrol must have spotted something."

Could it be their suspect already? "Sir Dahlgren, I hope you won't mind if my men and I follow yours as you check this out."

"Of course not," Sir Dahlgren replied. "But, if you'll excuse me, I need to ready the men and my own guymelef."

"I'll meet you in Scherezade, with the _Crusade_ as support." The airship itself wasn't front-line combat capable, but would help in scouting from the air.

Sir Dahlgren saluted. "Right. Duke Veris, given the situation, you and your party should remain in the garrison. I'll be leaving a force here to keep the base secure, so it will be safest to remain inside."

"But-" Duke Veris was cut off and Sir Dahlgren and Allen hurried out, Allen's head already converting maps to expectations of the terrain.

- x -

Celena didn't remember much about Asturian garrisons, but there was some logic to many military posts. Unfortunately, there was always the problem that one of the pieces of logic was the trade-off to make garrisons easy to navigate by the locals, but hard by any would-be invaders. But, if she was careful, she could sneak out of the _Crusade_ by offering to run errands to the mess for the crew, and then take some time to look around. If she was caught, and she was, sometimes, she could claim being lost.

She had learned something about the Green River Garrison from this - at least where everything was, from the barracks to where the melef were kept. And something about the people, mostly from gossip. Sir Laurent Dahlgren was young, newly knighted, and only posted here after the war, and half of his men thought he was better suited to be a merchant or scholar than a knight. The other half had seen him in a guymelef, and had to admit that their wet-behind-the-ears knight had something going for him.

There was also political talk - something about how much the local duke would cooperate with 'the new queen'. From what Celena had heard, the duke had gotten along with the old king, but was disdainful of Queen Millerna's abilities and suspicious about King Dryden's motives and his absence at court. He also thought Zaibach and Fanelia and most of the rest of Asturia's neighbors were threats. Perhaps fair to worry about the unstable northern and western borders, but the war-ravaged countries themselves were less of a threat than the brigands and former soldiers using the chaos as an excuse to start trouble. She made a note to avoid the duke if she ever met him, unless she was prepared to deal with such an odious person.

And, of course, there was the standard gossip about drinking and wenching and petty arguments that the men of the _Crusade_ also did when they thought she couldn't hear, and Brother wasn't around to insist they police their words around his sister.

Celena had been wandering near the melefs when she heard the alarm, a clanging noise made by beating a metal bell with a stick. Suddenly the slow but productive activity of soldiers doing routine duty changed as everyone snapped to attention. She felt her own body tense up, and was heading towards the parked melefs before she realized her feet were moving. Battle-trained reflexes were hard to break.

But not impossible. She moved back towards the shadows and considered. Stealing a melef would be an exceptionally dumb thing to do. She had never used an Asturian model, so would be far less useful than any of these soldiers. And there'd be trouble afterward.

A crowd of men passed her, and Celena paused in her motion to see if they were talking about anything interesting.

"Think it's a drill?" a man with a thick mustache said.

"Maybe," another replied, with a snort. "With this Zaibach guymelef pilot around, no one's taking chances."

"Or it could be for real," a third, with an impressive scar just missing his right eye said. "We're not that far from Greenford, and places near there were hit."

The second man shook his head. "Most of the attacks were to the east. Unless our mystery pilot wants to play in Fanelia now that Asturia's gotten boring."

"Good riddance," Mustache said. "Let Fanelia deal with him." "He'd just come back," Scar replied. "There's nothing in Fanelia except tribes of beastmen and dragons. I heard from my cousin that most of the people packed up when Zaibach torched their capital and are squatting on our borders."

"Quit being such a pessimist," Nondescript replied. "Maybe Fanelia will take care of the problem. They like Zaibach even less than us."

"And maybe wings will sprout out of my ass and I'll fly to the Mystic Moon," Scar replied. They were walking away from her, and Celena could barely make out that last expression. She remembered it for later, when Brother was definitely not in earshot.

The queen had told her there was a free Alseides pilot. That must be what the men were talking about. Knowing him, Brother would be on his way back to the _Crusade_ right now, to prep Scherezade. Gaddes would tell him that he had sent her to the mess, so he'd probably assume she would stay in the garrison if he didn't see her on the _Crusade_. He had said as much to her - if there was trouble, she was to disembark and stay safe and surrounded by the garrison walls.

She moved close enough to see into the cockpit of one of the melefs. It looked different than what she was used to - the controls deceptively simple, made like a clockwork suit of armor, instead of the damp, closed-in interior of an Alseides. But, she thought she could pilot it, even in a dress.

Her ears kept pricking, expecting a soldier to tell her to take shelter and get away from his guymelef. _I could take this as a sign_, Celena thought, but after a moment, she shook her head. _Be honest, Celena_. She wanted to be out there, to protect her brother and her home from this intrusion from her past. And she knew there was no way to do so legitimately. So, that left stealing Asturian military property, and hoping that the guymelef she picked was from some soldier on the sick list.

Celena was prepared to face the alternative, for Brother's safety. She slid into the pilot's chair, and hunted for the controls that would close the guymelef up and send it marching off to battle.

She managed to make it outside without running into a wall. A near miss with the door caused one of the ground men working the doors to the melef armory to call out a warning. Had it been the Dragonslayers, she would have raked the pilot over the coals for damaging military equipment in such a stupid matter. No, Dilandau would; Celena wasn't as angry any more. A half-dozen melefs assembled outside. Was she late? It would suit her purposes just fine. No need to respond to extended orders. If they were already moving out, she could be sent out in reserve, or, in the worst case, she could just be sent back to the stable. If she was sent to catch up, she could easily slip away if she had to.

She recognized Scherezade easy, near the center. As she approached - working the pedals in a sequence which was coming back to her like walking - it turned towards her and the faceplate slid back, showing Brother's annoyed face. "You're going to have to be faster, Dahlgren, if you want to be a field commander. People are in danger, and we can't waste time."

_Dahlgren?_ Shit, the guymelef she had picked out belonged to the outpost's knight-commander. She had to have picked a melef where everyone would know who should be in the chair, and would be expecting orders. In the right voice.

"Smoke was spotted, so I gave orders to your squad leaders to bring their men in from the left and right. We'll be forming a half circle, but the _Crusade_ can then loop around to cut off the far side. Scherezade has gone up against Alseides units before, so I'll be taking point. Since you've decided to join us," and this was said with a tone of sarcasm that Brother would never take with her if he knew, "I trust you can lead me there post haste and watch my back?"

She nodded. There was a tiny thrill about being asked to fight alongside Brother, even if he wasn't asking _her_ at all, really. There were a few signals she could do without speaking in a melef, so she signed 'yes' and started walking. She could fake expertise in melef woodsmanship, or trust that Brother thought Dahlgren was a bit green.

The air felt different when she started moving, like she had stepped outside of a stuffy room she hadn't even known she had been sitting in. Even above the machine-oil scent of the guymelefs as they strode, she could smell the scent of pine resin and mulch. The forest was full with the alarm calls of birds and Scherezade and her own guymelef's footsteps. It made Celena feel watchful. Without Zaibach's stealth cloaks and flight capabilities, it was hard to take an opponent by surprise, and Celena hoped that the experimental technology had been secured better than the melefs.

Brother didn't speak over the sound of their walking. There wasn't much to say. They were moving towards a possible fight, and any effort should be spent arriving in time to do something, even if it was only to prevent their enemy from fleeing again. He was gaining ground on her, as her muscles were already starting to ache a bit from the odd motion. Piloting an Asturian melef was more taxing than a Zaibach unit would be, and she hadn't been exercising properly. Celena made a note that when they got back, she would find a way, any way, to build up her endurance again. And learn to use one of these properly, rather than going by trial-and-error from a foreign design.

She had seen the plume of smoke from the garrison, but she started to smell it, too, the pure, sharp scent of woodsmoke, instead of the roasted-meat odor of burning corpses. She had developed the ability, from long exposure, to tell different 'burning smells' apart, something that distinctly reduced her appetite for roasts now. She gave a 'hurry' sound and found a new burst of energy. She felt her gait alter as she shifted into a new rhythm. Brother was still leaving her behind, and she was going to take her job as his second seriously.

- x -

It was an Alseides unit, not that Allen had expected anything less. It was still unpainted gray, with no distinguishing insignia, though bright scratches showed it was hardly new. He caught the bright metal of the Crima claws as they caught a large tree and tore it, in several pieces, out of the ground. Allen couldn't see any survivors and hoped any had fled. From the smoldering ruins of what once was a logging camp, Allen couldn't tell if they had crossed into Fanelia yet. His own best guess at the distance put them a stone's throw from the border.

Dahlgren had fallen behind. The man wasn't as good in a guymelef as Allen might have hoped from their earlier conversations. Smart, though; he'd wait for any opening Allen could give him. Let the enemy think only one guymelef had approached them, then Dahlgren or his men could surprise the pilot.

He drew Scherezade's sword, and charged, hoping to catch the pilot before he turned around. Alseides had the advantage at range, and could easily turn the surrounding forest into even more of an inferno. If this stayed a one-on-one fight, Allen would need to keep his quarry in his grasp.

Whoever was piloting the thing, he was good. The enemy pilot quickly brought up his own weapon to parry Allen's blow, hard enough that Allen heard Scherezade's machinery grind. The corner of Allen's mouth twitched up a bit. The battle was joined.

He let himself sink into the rhythm of the fight, his vision collapsing just enough to give him awareness of the trees around him. The singular nice thing about a fight like this was that he didn't need to worry about the large scale. It was like a duel, if a duel had no rules.

"Finally, Asturia has gotten off their asses and sent someone competent?" Allen heard the pilot yell during combat. Whoever, he was, he didn't sound like much more than a boy. He shouldn't be surprised. Zaibach showed they would use conscripted children in their experiments, and on the battlefield. But he hesitated, just for a moment, and the pilot managed to trap Scherezade's blade between his guymelef's claws.

A flash of color, and he saw Dahlgren's guymelef deliver a blow that scraped across the Alseides' skin, not doing much more than scoring the hull. The enemy laughed. "Someone's cheating," he said. "But it looks like your second isn't any good."

The distraction had been enough for Allen to wrest his guymelef's sword free, and return to his old stance. "Good enough," he muttered, then raised his voice "Dahlgren! If you can't help, keep the hell out of the fight!"

"Are you sure about that?" the enemy pilot said. "If he can't be useful, then maybe he can be a human shield for you, Sir Knight." The Alseides stepped back, a surprisingly graceful maneuver assisted by the flight engines on board, and shoved Sir Dahlgren's guymelef forward. Allen caught the sound of strained metal, and, above that, a stifled yelp too high-pitched to be a man's.

His gut reacted before he quite registered what he had heard, sending a cold shiver up his spine and his muscles already moving to position to protect the stumbling guymelef. But his brain was only a breath behind. "Celena!"

What the _hell_ was she doing in there? She should be in the garrison's mess, where Gaddes had said he'd sent her. It didn't matter though. The point was what had been a simple fight with an enemy soldier with a green support unit had turned into something much more dangerous. No wonder 'Dahlgren' had been so clumsy and quiet. He was surprised Celena had figured out how to walk in a guymelef.

He wanted to interrogate her, and to demand that she leave the guymelef this instant. But to do so under fire would be suicide, for both of them. "Stay where you are. I have this."

He maneuvered between the Alseides and Celena, who was slowly righting the guymelef. He kept catching glances of motion out of the corner of his field of view, and had to hold back from guarding against every shift and step. The Alseides pilot was growing bolder, obviously seeing that he was keeping himself in between him and Celena.

"Where is that backup?" Allen muttered between gasps of breath. Surely it couldn't take that long to bring people around from the flanks. He was slowing, and he knew that one of the blows was going to land sooner or later.

Celena's borrowed guymelef was on its feet again, he saw move towards the Alseides. "Celena! Wrong way!" Allen nearly unbalanced Scherezade in his haste to bring the guymelef around between her and the enemy. He re-balanced first, then brought the arms up to parry an incoming blow.

Too slow. Allen heard the wrench of metal and felt a jab of pain in his side so hard he nearly blacked out. He could feel the guymelef tipping as he lost his balance, falling to the ground with a jolt that caused him to stifle a cry by biting his own tongue, and he wondered, in a detached sort of way, when the finishing blow would come.

He couldn't see outside but for glimpses, but he could hear Celena screaming.


	5. Chapter 5

The world stopped when Celena saw her brother fell. Her field of view narrowed until all she could see was the hole left by the enemy's claws, trailing parts like the great machine was as wounded as the man inside. She smelled blood and heard the pause as her heart skipped a beat, in step with her brother.

Someone was screaming. It took the pain of her throat for her realize it was her. Without thinking, she felt her arms and legs tense, launching the stolen guymelef towards her attacker. "How dare you! How _dare_ you!"

Celena didn't remember how to use the weapons, but it didn't matter. She was going to tear that Alseides unit apart. The enemy pilot was saying something, but Celena couldn't make out words, just the high mocking tone of his voice that made her want to gut him like a fish. She could hear the sound of strained metal, and wasn't really sure if it was hers or the enemy's.

He turned, and she realized he was leaving, could almost feel the exhaust from the heated levistones that allowed flight as its own separate blow to her. "Get back here!" she screamed, in a voice that could barely form the words. She leaned back in her seat, a sprinter's pose, and felt her dress strain against its seams to follow her motion. She leapt towards the opponent.

She felt her guymelef overbalance, teeter and fall, and she landed, hard, against the leather straps keeping her in her seat. She swore, a mix of Zaibachian and whatever she had picked up in Asturia, and could feel the hot tears streaming down her face. "Damn you! Face me, you brother-killing coward!" Celena struggled against her straps, too angry to think of how to get herself standing again.

She could hear the heavy thud of footfalls outside, and she screamed at them. It wasn't good enough to attack Brother, but now he was coming for her. Celena put all her remaining shreds of self-control into moving her arms and legs, to pull her stolen guymelef to its feet. If this was how it was going to end, she wasn't going to die on her stomach. If she couldn't avenge her brother, she would at least face his killer on her feet.

She could hear voices - more than one? - outside, and her bobbing viewpoint showed her the source of the footsteps. Melefs. Fanelian melefs. Celena knew this without thinking about how she recognized the design, a thousand little things jumping out. She hurried to get back to her feet, to face this new threat, in case they tried to stop her from chasing down that bastard that had attacked her brother and her.

"Hey, you! Asturian guymelef!"

Celena ignored the person calling out. She looked around, almost losing her balance again as she tried to spot where the Alseides and her pilot had gone. "Damn you, you have to be somewhere." "Open up so we can talk to ya! You got a man down, and one of our logging camps was burnt to ashes! Hey, are you even listening to me?"

"Celena?" The voice was reedy, but it was her brother. "Young lady, you get down here this instant."

Celena's heart stopped. Had he survived the blow from the fight? "Brother!" Her fingers fumbling, she started to undo the straps and open up the cockpit to exit, not caring about anything she learned about proper cool-down procedure. She stumbled down, feeling the fabric of her dress catch and tear on some bit of machinery.

There was a small party of beastmen, with a pair of human men wearing the crest of Fanelia sewn on otherwise unremarkable sets of clothing. That and the pair of melefs - small ones, ones she could easily imagine had been built since the war, and looked like they were made of mismatched parts covered with a slapdash coat of paint - were the footfalls she had heard. They had opened up the damaged Sherazarde, and pulled Brother out. Celena could see the cut-away, darkly-stained remains of his Knight Caeli coat and white shirt set aside like a pile of rags, as one of the men worked on him. She hurried to his side, as if to reassure herself that he really was alive, that this wasn't all some kind of awful hallucination.

The man looked up as she walked over. "Miss, this is no sight for a young lady," he replied.

"That's my younger sister," Brother replied. He had been laid down on a sheet covering the ground. "It's all right Celena. I'm all right."

"Liar." She could see the too-pale color of his skin and the way his breathing sounded raspy. His arm was hanging at a funny angle, and his side and forehead were bandaged, with blood already soaking through the latter. She remembered that even grazes could bleed a lot, and put her own hand to her right cheek, swearing she felt something liquid run down her face. But it wasn't blood, merely sweat... or tears, she couldn't tell.

Oh, heavens, what had she just been doing? It had felt like someone else, some rageful spirit had taken over her body when she had seen her brother fall, and it would have torn the forest, and the Fanelians, limb from limb to get at the one who had hurt him.

No, it didn't felt like some_one_ else, it had felt like some _time_ else, her own other lifetime.

Celena felt like she was going to throw up, and the other human Fanelian put a hand on her shoulder. "Easy there, Missy," he said.

"Celena, go sit down," Brother said.

"Might be best if you can take her a bit away," the medic added. "I need to set this bone, and I've seen hardened soldiers faint watching that. Unless she's a healer or midwife, she'll be more harm than good."

She managed to get about five steps away before throwing up. The other Fanelian handed her his canteen. "Here." She took it and swallowed. It was water, warm and with a funny aftertaste, but it got the nasty taste of vomit out of her mouth. "If you really were fighting, most people have that reaction on their first fight." Celena wanted to say that it wasn't her first fight, that she had been doing it since she was a boy... child, dammit, but she wasn't going to tell a Fanelian she was... remembered being... Dilandau. So she nodded, and let him make her a seat, and tried not to listen too much above the camp sounds for the medic.

"There should be people following us," she said tiredly. "Other Asturian soldiers. And my brother's airship."

The Fanelian nodded. "You heard the lady," he called to the beastmen. "Keep an eye out for them and show them in. And send a runner back to camp." The leader of the beastmen nodded, waving his own people off.

"Since your brother, was it?" Celena nodded at the Fanelian. "Since your brother is going to be out with the medic, would ya mind telling me what you two were doing so close to the border?"

"We were at Green River," Celena replied, suddenly aware of how awkward this was. "Someone saw smoke and the commander mobilized the troops. I think he knew it was close to the border, but not which side. Brother was assigned to help by the queen at Palas. There were rumors-"

"Humans don't normally send their women into battle," a passing beastman commented. Celena wasn't sure if she was meant to hear that. The Fanelian man waited for a response, but she had had long practice at staring Brother down at awkward questions.

"We've heard the rumors," the man eventually picked up the conversation. "Zaibach will never put so much of a fa- whisker over the border while any Fanelian draws breath. The king himself is coming up to meet with Asturia on the subject. I thought you all might be the honor guard, which is why I asked. You're not the queen, are you? Last I recall, she didn't have any brothers, though, unless her husband has some."

Celena mutely shook her head. Van of Fanelia was here? She remembered him so hard that Celena's cheek started burning, as if the newly-healed scar remained. No, that was Dilandau. Celena had only seen him in passing. Brother spoke of him often, though.

It meant that Brother would want to speak to him now. Perhaps organize something from Fanelia, but mostly to greet his old friend. And, now, Celana would be there as well, instead of back at the garrison.

She buried her head in her hands, murmuring something to the Fanelian nursemaiding her about being tired. And she was, though it was more the bone-weary feeling that all passion had fled from her. Right now, she just wanted to wish her and her brother home.

x x x

Allen didn't know what the foul smelling stuff that the medic made him swallow was, but it had knocked him out cold. When he woke up again, he could still feel the sharp pain of a thousand scrapes and bruises, not to mention his arm, now set. He was on the _Crusade_ though the airship wasn't in flight - he might be half-drunk on painkillers, but he still knew his own ship - but he wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten here.

His bandaged side informed him that sitting up was a terrible idea, and Allen lay back against his bunk, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain up his arm. The door opened, and he turned to see Gaddes. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Boss."

"Don't even joke about things like that," Allen said. It was unprofessional to be lying on his back when his second was giving a report, but his side had made it clear that he could either stay down or suffer the consequences. He was mildly surprised that the medic - he remembered a medic, even if it was just hands and a voice giving orders - wasn't in here to tie him to the bed until he healed. If it had been Millerna, she might have tried. Which made him wonder if the medic was needed elsewhere. "Report, Gaddes."

Gaddes pulled the stool over to Allen's bedside. "When we were getting the _Crusade_ ready, and were just about to cast off, Sir Dahlgren came running up the gangplank, screaming about how someone had stolen his guymelef."

"Celena," Allen said. What had she been thinking, doing something so crazy? It was so unlike her, to not only ignore his instructions when trouble happened, but to do so in such a... spectacular... manner.

Gaddes nodded. "Guess piloting and crazy heroic stunts runs in the family, Boss. Anyway, we moved out, and found the battle site. It was pretty badly scorched."

"I've seen it."

"Dahlgren said he thought we'd crossed into Fanelia, but he didn't have a map with him to be sure. We saw a couple of their melefs with Scherezade and Dahlgren's guymelef, so we landed."

Allen sighed as he thought of the fight. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, listening to the sounds of _Crusade_ - not many, besides the occasional voice, when the airship was in port. "I wish I could give a better account of the fight. You'll have to get the details from my sister." He grimaced at questioning Celena. She wouldn't be able to answer most of their questions without training in tactics. "But I imagine that the incoming reinforcements from Fanelia may have startled the pilot." Granted, the pilot didn't seem to be quite all there. Allen was a bit surprised that he hadn't followed up on the blow that had disabled Scherezade.

Gaddes shrugged. "Whatever happened, the pilot got away. Dahlgren sent out sweeps to pick up the trail, and he and the _Crusade_ escorted the Fanelians back to the garrison. They were on the way to Palas anyway, and Dahlgren offered to put them up for the night."

Allen frowned. "I thought the route between their capital and Palas was to the south."

"It is," Gaddes said. "Didn't ask why they were detouring north. Anyway, their doc and the medic here argued a bit, but said to wait until you slept off the drugs before getting you out of the _Crusade_ and about. And to tell you to not move before then." The last was said with a bit of an eyeroll, and Allen smiled. He and Gaddes both knew what medics were like.

The sound of the voices - people having an argument, from the muffled tones Allen could hear - increased. "Gaddes, who is making that noise?"

Gaddes stood up. "Dunno." He had gotten up to undo the hatch, when someone knocked at it. Gaddes looked to Allen, who nodded. Whoever it was, he was willing to put up with another visitor. It was probably just the medic, with something foul for Allen to drink. Or maybe a meal. He could do with one, even if it was just tea and some bland gruel.

Gaddes opened the door. The first thing Allen heard was the sound of the Fanelian medic's voice, "You have five minutes. I'm already keeping half a dozen people from his sickbed, and I don't mind adding one to the list, Your Majesty."

Allen suffered a moment's confusion - what was Millerna doing out here? - before someone who was most certainly _not_ Millerna entered his room. He smiled. "So it seems the group of Fanelians weren't out in the wilderness alone. We have to stop meeting like this, Van."

"Good to see you too, Allen," the young king of Fanelia said.

Allen looked at Gaddes. "You could have informed me the party we encountered was a royal procession."

"I was getting to that," Gaddes replied. "Sorry, boss." He remained standing, and passed the stool to Van, who set it by the bunk with a fluid, practiced motion, and sat down.

"The trouble has you out here too?"

Van nodded. "Our borders are suffering as well. Though this was the first attack on Fanelian territory, our scouts have been seeing things for days now. I came out this way to talk to the beastmen who live in the mountains."

"So that's what you were doing so far north," Allen said. "It was a bit out of your way."

Van shrugged. "Had a hunch I should detour up here to check things out. And someone who is attacking human settlements might not notice a group of nomads. Or beastmen, even if Zaibach did use them as soldiers."

"Well, I do appreciate it," Allen said. "From what Gaddes tells me, your melefs drove off the attack after I fell."

Van shook his head. "Maybe, but I can't imagine that anyone would be scared of them. They're all we've been able to piece together from spare parts and makeshift forges. If they got into a real fight, they would only get killed."

Allen nodded. Fanelia's capital city had been destroyed in the first salvo of the war, and he couldn't imagine a small, agrarian country had much in the ways of resources. Most of Zaibach's attack had been centered on killing or capturing Van and dismantling the Fanelian military, and less focused on destroying the farms and fields. Otherwise, Fanelia might have a lean winter; at least Asturia could buy food from countries less touched by the war, and rely on the bounties of the seas.

Melefs could be rebuilt, crops could regrow. The cost of life would be harder to replace. Which reminded him. "What was done with Scherezade?"

"We hauled her back here for repairs, and Dahlgren walked his home," Gaddes said "His wasn't too badly broken, just upended."

Allen cursed under his breath. "We'll have to see what facilities there are for repairs. If we hurry, the enemy won't move far."

Van and Gaddes exchanged a look. "I'm not a doctor, Boss, but I don't think you can pilot Scherezade with that broken arm."

Allen inclined his head towards Van, as best he could without moving his body much. "In that case, Van, I know you are an excellent pilot."

"I haven't worked on anything like Scherezade. I learned on small scouts and then had Escaflowne," Van said. "Ispano controls were... different. But I don't want this to go on any longer. It ends here, if we can end it. If you can repair Scherezade, I can pilot it, even if I have to spend every waking moment practicing."

"Thank you, Van. I knew I could count on you."

"Though I'm surprised you didn't ask your sister, given that my men say they pulled a blonde woman from the other guymelef." There was a bit of an edge to his voice, and Allen sunk against his pillow. Of all the things he didn't want to deal with, it was Van's understandable enmity with Dilandau. He thought they had resolved things and laid Dilandau to rest, but seeing Celena must have opened an old wound.

"If this is about Celena..." he glanced over at Gaddes.

Gaddes nodded. "I'll go ask the medic if he needs anything," he said. "Maybe a pair of strong arms to help you get out of bed, Boss."

Allen wanted to throw his pillow at Gaddes. "I've a broken arm; I'm not an invalid."

Gaddes chuckled as he slipped out. From the other side of the door, he heard the medic shout. "One minute before I'm coming in and dragging you out by your ear. Your Majesty."

"If it's about Celena," Allen continued speaking, once Gaddes was outside the room, "she doesn't remember a thing, except nightmares."

"And that explains how a fifteen year old who has a ten-year memory block can pilot a guymelef through miles of forest?" Van asked pointedly, crossing his arms and leaning back on his stool so far that Allen thought he might fall over.

"Well," Allen admitted, "she does have some skill memory too. She's able to do sums, which she hadn't learned before she vanished."

"Sums," Van said, in a flat, skeptical voice. "I'm not talking about _sums_, Allen."

But the point is," Allen said, nearly bringing up his hands to gesture before a sharp pain made him remember his injury. "The point is, she does have memory of skills. But nothing else. So you can stop taking that tone towards my sister. She's not Zaibach, Van. She's not Dilandau."

"And how sure of that are you, or is this just another case of you just seeing some young girl you want to shelter? If I could accept Folken, you better be able to deal with this, Allen." Van said, standing up. "The knight... Dahlgren said to tell you some duke is screaming up a blue fit, and he wants you and me there when he talks to him. I can have the doctor tell them to not bother you."

"Just tell them to postpone it until I can get some rest. In an actual bed." It sounded like Duke Veris was still around and probably upset about their failure to catch the rogue. He was already sick and tired of having to defend his sister to Van, having to defend his own plans - and his failure to notice Celena's last minute substitution - made him even more tired.

Besides, setting the irate medic on Veris might bring some joy into a frustrating and irritating day.

Van nodded. "I'll tell him. But the doc probably wants you to get that rest. We'll talk about this later."

"There's nothing to talk about, Van," Allen replied. "Not about Celena. And if you're so sure that she's deceiving me, then why don't you talk to her yourself?" He shouldn't have said that. In the mood he was in, Van might scare Celena, especially after she had been in a battle and had seemed lost inside her own head.

"Maybe I will," Van answered. "Someone has to keep a level head around here." And, unaware of the irony, as he left, he closed the hatch a bit harder than he must have intended - it slammed shut.

x x x

After changing her torn and stained dress for a new one, Celena had helped set up Brother's room in the garrison as Gaddes and the doctor moved him from the Crusade. It was simple enough work, there already being a place for wounded soldiers to recover after a visit from a surgeon, so it allowed her mind to wander.

She had piloted a guymelef. It had been... well, it had been thrilling, until near the end. Like the first snow in winter, returning to something wonderful after an absence had made her realize how much she missed it.

The fight, not so much. She sat down on the newly-made bed. At first there had been the fear of not knowing how to work the weapons on the guymelef. Perfectly reasonable. Something she should have thought about before she went with her impulse to follow Brother. But when he had been hurt...

... _admit it, you lost all semblance of control_. And Celena didn't know what to do about it. She could name the red-hot feeling of fury rising from within her - Zaibach had given it a name and a form - but that didn't tell her what to do about it. Dilandau certainly had never bothered to reign it in.

And she was afraid to tell Brother. As much as she wanted him to acknowledge she wasn't the little girl he remembered, she didn't want irrational rage to be what he took away from that.

She chuckled dryly. _Am I protecting him from Dilandau still?_ It looked like it, even though she knew that the rage was hers, so it would never be turned towards Brother.

She heard footsteps outside, and Celena stood up. Was that the medic and Brother? She reached for the door, opening it for them, and paused. It was the knight, Sir Dahlgren, and someone she didn't recognize - a richly-dressed man.

"Who are you?" the stranger asked.

Before Celena could answer, Sir Dahlgren turned to his companion and said, "that's Sir Schezar's younger sister, the Honorable Celena Schezar. Miss Schezar, this is His Grace, the Duke of Veris"

"But what's she doing here?" the duke asked. "Schezar's family holds land near Palas."

Celena straightened. "Since my elder brother is my only remaining family, I asked to accompany him, Your Grace. He agreed, provided I stay behind the front lines." It was one thing to say about formality. It may chafe like a net, but it gave her control over her words. Just push them into set patterns, and channel her tone into ice over the fixed words, instead of fire.

Duke Veris snorted. Apparently he didn't think she was of import enough to follow the same rules, which made Celena even angrier. "Fine. Then tell your brother I want to see him and his Fanelian friend as soon as possible. I thought the crown promised to do something about these raids, besides have our army look like a fool to foreigners."

"His Fanelian friend?" Celena asked.

"I believe he means King Van," Sir Dahlgren said quickly, shifting from foot to foot, as if someone had heated the floor to uncomfortable temperatures. Since he was being put between a duke and a king, Celena couldn't blame him, but she was standing firm.

"I will pass the message along, but the surgeon has the final say about my brother's health," Celena replied.

"What kind of knight is your brother, willing to listen to his sister and his nanny?" Duke Veris replied. Celena felt her back stiffen.

"The kind that survived on the front lines of a war that killed many good soldiers," Celena answered.

"Perhaps we could hold the conference in Sir Schezar's sickroom?" Sir Dahlgren said. "As a concession to Sir Schezar's injuries?"

"That would be acceptable, if the doctor agrees," Celena answered. "Thank you, Sir Dahlgren."

"It will have to do," Duke Veris said. "Send for me when it is arranged." Celena would describe the way he walked off as 'a huff'.

"I wonder what he was doing during the war?" she said to herself.

"I believe he was staying outside of Palas. The duchess handled most of the territory here," Sir Dahlgren answered. "I was still a squire, but I was involved in logistics."

Celena gave him a startled look, not expecting to be overheard. She realized then she was faced with the man who she had stolen from, and she might well depend on his good graces to not be slapped in irons for stealing military property right before a battle. _Really smart, Celena_.

"Who taught you how to pilot a guymelef anyway?" Sir Dahlgren persisted.

Celena looked away. 'A veteran Zaibach sergeant who had enough to lose by not exposing Emperor Dorkirk's sorcers' secret Fate Alteration project, and who could ride herd on a dozen volatile boys normally considered too young for even Zaibach's military', was most certainly the wrong answer, though she might be able to pass it off as a joke. "Here and there," she said. "Brother would rather I not mention it." She'd rather not mention it herself after the disaster. She hoped the answer would be enough for him to get the hint.

"So, that was your first fight, then? That wasn't bad, considering. I've seen recruits do worse."

"Don't mention it. Really." Celena was smiling, which she expected looked like a grimace. "It's a shame you're... well, if you were Sir Schezar's little brother-"

Celena inwardly cursed every god she had ever heard of, and a few that she was certain she had made up. "I think I hear Brother and the medic coming, don't you?"

Sir Dahlgren paused in his unintentional... probably... attempts to compliment her fighting skills without meaning to imply that she wasn't a lady. Or whatever he was supposed to be doing, and Celena just had a chill go down her spine that, for once, had nothing to do with Dilandau or Zaibach or Brother, as she wondered if he was _infatuated_ with her. "I... maybe?" he said.

Maybe was definitely as Gaddes and the Fanelian medic turned the corner, Brother supported between them. He still looked awful, with his arm in a sling and the bandages were clearly visible over his wounds, but his color was better and he was alert.

Celena stepped out of the way of the door, letting them pass. Brother nodded to her. "Getting my room ready?"

"It was the least I could do. Sir Dahlgren asked me to tell you that Duke Veris would like to speak to you and His Majesty as soon as you are able." She glanced to the medic, who scowled back at her.

"As soon as the medic lets me out of his sight. He gave Van five minutes. Some how I doubt he'd give an Asturian duke more. Dahlgren, could you send someone to speak to His Majesty?"

Once again, the unspoken agreement of not letting Celena and Van cross paths. Sir Dahlgren nodded, with a glance to Celena. "Ah, right."

"Come on," the medic said. "Back into bed with you. If you're going to be indulging in anything besides passing out, you'll need rest."

Celena helped Gaddes and the medic settle Brother. After both left, she found herself seated next to his bed, uncertain what to say. She felt like she owed him an explanation, but the words wouldn't come. Staring at him, watching her. She could feel the awkward silence develop a presence, as if the ten years from her life that had been taken from her had taken physical form and was crowding the room. Her venture had made this feeling worse.

"You must be hungry. I can get you something from the kitchen?" she asked.

Brother nodded. "Thank you, Celena. That would be appreciated."

She stood up, and left. As she did, she wondered what measure of cowardice would let her face down an enemy untrained and without backup, but sent her fleeing from a heartfelt conversation with her beloved family.


	6. Chapter 6

Someone had found a couple of planks of wood, with enough stains to make Allen wonder what they had been in a previous life, to drag in front of Allen's bed. Sir Dahlgren had dragged out one of his meticulous charts, but it didn't dismiss the impromptu feeling of the meeting, with a knight, a duke and a king sitting balanced on the flimsy stools surrounding Allen's bed and Celena hovering near Allen's injured side, in case he needed an extra pair of hands.

Allen tried to ignore the looks Veris was giving Van. As far as he knew, the duke had never been into Fanelia, but he must have some dealings, since his duchy was on the border. Perhaps poor ones, given the expression. Allen wondered if they could get away with kicking him out, as a civilian, but probably not, if they wanted Van to stay. Van for his part was ignoring him to focus on the charts, so Allen decided to wait until the duke did something besides scowl.

Sir Dahlgren placed a number of blue and red wooden blocks on the garrison, and one, dyed yellow-gold, out in the woods. "So, this is the situation. The Fanelian scouts reported that the Zaibach guymelef was damaged in the last fight, so he'll probably stay in the area."

"Are you sure about that?" Veris asked.

"We know what damage looks like," Van replied. "Unless you not only missed a guymelef but a floating fortress, it won't be able to do much until it's repaired. Which would mean finding at least a mining town with a blacksmith, for ore and a forge."

"We missed?" Veris replied. "Watch your tongue, Fanelian."

Allen sighed - not even a minute into the conversation. "Gentlemen. We can all be certain that all mobile Zaibach bases of that caliber have been destroyed. And their static workshops are guarded by the occupying army." What survived of them. Between sabotage by the troops stationed there and looting by the occupying armies, most of them were in a sorry condition. Between here and Zaibach's capital, one could be lucky to find equipment enough to repair farm tools, let alone a guymelef.

Sir Dahlgren nodded. "Which means either the enemy pilot has to risk heading back along the border to an unguarded town, or he has to attack here." He pointed to the map, higher in the foothills. "Besides this garrison, Green Falls would be the only place he would be able to effect repairs, if he stays in the area."

"What if he doesn't?" Van said.

"It would be the only rational thing to do, if he doesn't abandon his guymelef," Sir Dahlgren replied. "And, should he abandon the guymelef, he becomes much less of a threat."

"Zaibach soldiers aren't always known for being rational," Van said. "He might hit here, just to get back at us for damaging his equipment."

"That would be suicide." Sir Dahlgren frowned.

Celena reached over to pick up a blue wooden disc. "Each of these represents a melef, right?"

"I told you, Sir Schezar, you shouldn't have this woman here," Duke Veris hissed.

"If I had both arms, she wouldn't be," Allen whispered back, "unless you want to fetch and carry for me."

"Yes, that's right," Sir Dahlgren didn't hear their conversation. "Red for Fanelia, blue for us. We have the two melefs His Majesty brought, the four remaining here, my own guymelef, and Scherezade, which should be repaired enough to be functional." He frowned. "As long as no one hits the right side again. The armor will be weak if we rush repairs."

Allen nodded. "Guymelefs repair quicker than men do. But we're still down a pilot."

"We lost two men on the enemy's retreat," Sir Dahlgren replied. "Even with the damage, he could still take out a melef and its pilot."

"And ours aren't that much better that yours in that respect," Van replied. "They're what we've recovered since the war."

"It explains their looks," Duke Veris muttered. Allen sighed. Could the man not go a minute without trying to make Van lose his temper?

Van stared at him. "I'd rather functional than pretty at this point."

"Van could borrow Scherezade from me," Allen said. "He's more than competent at guymelef piloting, and should be able to pick up the differences in Asturian design quickly."

Van nodded, and Allen saw Sir Dahlgren turn towards the Fanelian king, probably to make a note to bother him about Fanelian melef technology. Allen decided to not mention Escaflowne to Dahlgren, if the man had somehow come out of the war without knowing about Fanelia's secret weapon. If a guymelef aficionado like Dahlgren found the only living person who had flown an Ispano design, he might try to emigrate on the spot to follow Van home.

"Absolutely not," Duke Veris replied, crossing his arms. "I will take it as hostile intent if Fanelia even breathes on Asturian military technology."

The four of them stared at him. "You can't be serious," Allen was the first to speak, beating Van by mere seconds. "Fanelia is an ally of ours, and Van is a personal friend of mine. And it's not like he hasn't been a guest on the Crusade."

"He was also no friend of the old king," Veris countered. "And you all heard him state Fanelia's sorry military state."

"Wait, you think I'm going to steal Scherezade?" Van nearly burst out laughing. "Fanelia will never be that hard up for military might that she has to steal from her allies, and even if she were, I'd pick a different target than Allen Schezar. Besides," he met Allen's stare, "if things get bad and that thing moves towards the capital, I still have my own resources. If I have to kill another dragon myself, I won't see my city burn again."

Allen doubted Veris caught the reference, and it might even have gone over Dahlgren's head, but he knew what Van was saying. He would wake Escaflowne if things got bad, despite the fact it might set off Veris's faction like a landslide.

"If I'm not needed here," Van continued, "I'm turnign around and heading right back over the border. I'll be needed to lead my own defenses, if Asturia won't help." He gave Allen a small smile. "Sorry, Allen."

"What about Miss Schazar?" Sir Dahlgren asked.

"Surely you're joking, Dahlgren," Duke Veris replied. "Are we so desperate that we'll take a slip of a girl?"

Allen wasn't paying too much attention to him - he saw Van's eyes stare at Celena like a horse that suddenly realized the tuft of grass it had been ignoring by the side of the trail hid a snake. Allen couldn't read Celena's expression himself.

"I could do it," she said, barely above a whisper.

"And she's an Asturian citizen," Dahlgren said. "Any man I have who can pilot is assigned a melef. We don't have the manpower to train more, and Miss Schezar seems to have a natural talent for it."

Was the man insane? Well, probably, but he hadn't figured out Celena's secret. "We are not putting my sister into danger. I'll do it myself, with my injuries before I let that happen."  
"Then we're going to have to plan for one guymelef," Dahlgren said. "Unless His Grace knows anything about piloting, or knows a veteran living in the area."

The way this day was going, it wouldn't surprise Allen to find the man was a prodigy in his youth. "Certainly not," Duke Veris replied. Well, there went that idea.

They started planning for Dahlgren to take on the Alseides unit, with the remaining melefs acting as a perimeter. The same plan they had tried before, but with one guymelef down. It might have been that that left the lead weight in Allen's stomach. Or it could be the way Van was glaring at the top of his head when he bent over the map.

Afterward, when Van, Sir Dahlgren and the duke filed out, Allen waved Celena over with his good hand. She sat down on a vacated stool. "Do you need anything?" she asked.

"Celena, why did Sir Dahlgren volunteer you?" Allen asked.

Celena looked away. "He just remembered what happened. He said he thought I had natural talent. That's all."

Well, after the display she had put on yesterday, he couldn't blame Dahlgren for wondering. Which led to other questions. "What possessed you to do that anyway?"

Celena shied away. "Are you mad at me for it?"

Allen sighed. "I'm worried about you, Celena. I always have been. If..." and here he took a deep breath, which brought a bit of pain - pain he ignored - into his chest. "If you had been hurt in that fight, I would have been beside myself with guilt. But, even when you don't do as I expect you to, even when you steal my clothing for your excursions, and even when you do dangerous things, I won't stop loving you. You're my little sister." And even when you were an enemy to my country, and lacked the memories to not see me as your enemy, I didn't stop loving you.  
Celena looked into his eyes. "I... I know. I love you too, Brother. Which was why... I thought I could help you."

Allen shook his head. "I have Gaddes and my other men, and the entire Asturian military to help me, Celena. I appreciate you wanting to do something, but everyone has their own roles to play. You can help me most by staying out of trouble."

Celena looked away. "Would you be saying the same thing if I was your little brother instead of your little sister?"

A flash of memory - Dilandau standing in front of him in his old border outpost, looking for Van and Hitomi. Allen suspected the shocked expression showed on his face, since Celena followed up with, "Sir Dahlgren said if I was your little brother and not your little sister, it would be good to have another Allen Schezar on the field."

Well, it was good to know Sir Dahlgren hadn't taken complete leave of his senses when he had suggested Celena. Allen could... grudgingly... admit that maybe Millerna's medical training was something women could do. But for a woman to take the field of battle? "Celena, do you want to be my little brother?"

Celena paused, and Allen wondered what was she was thinking. "I want to be me. But..." she met Allen's eyes again, "that means being me. All of me."

A cold chill went down Allen's spine. He remembered the words that someone... the other Zaibach soldier, he thought, had shouted to Celena when she had made her final change back. Giving her permission to be Celena again, as if she had shed Dilandau like a butterfly sheds its chrysalis. "Celena..." he paused, and looked around.

She stood up, heading towards the door. At first he thought she was leaving, again, and he nearly called out to her, but the words died on his throat, when she looked both ways, then shut the door and returned to her stool. "No one is around."

Had she read his discomfort? "Celena, you know you were missing for years from me... from our family, from Asturia." She nodded. "How much do you remember about the time you were missing?"  
She met his gaze unflinching, as if she had been waiting for him to ask this single question. "Everything." She paused "Except for some things near the end, where everything is fuzzy."

Allen felt the world drop out beneath the bed. He wasn't sure what to think. He had been so certain that Van had been wrong, had told the queen that there was nothing to her fears.

Celena was still talking. "I didn't want to tell you, because I was afraid you'd be mad. You were always trying to get me to act more like a lady."

"Celena. I meant what I said before. You're my sister, and I will always love you, no matter what has happened or will happen." It was the truth, and he just had to hold that that bedrock - that here was his beloved younger sister, Celena Schezar, and that she would always be Celena Schezar. It felt like a shallow platitude, but it was all he had right now. That and her.

"I just didn't want to hurt you, Brother," Celena said. "I love you, too."

Allen gave her a smile. Not faked, though he was still feeling like she had knocked his feet from under him. But there was still one thing. "I told the queen you were no threat, because I thought you didn't remember anything of Dilandau. If you do remember-"

Celena shook her head. "I know I'm not in Dilandau's place. It's like a dream - everything made so much sense in my memory, but now, it's like I can retrace the steps, but some of them were things I don't think I'd ever do. I don't know what I would do, though."

Allen cocked his head. "Pardon?"

"I feel like I don't really know who Celena is. I know who Dilandau was, but I'm not that person, any more. And I know who you think Celena should be, but I don't know what I am."

'You're my sister' was probably the wrong answer. Definitely the wrong answer.

She sighed. "I just want some time to figure out who I am without you telling me who I should be. Or anyone, really."

Allen considered this. "I'm... I was doing it for your own good. There's a lot of rules about how young ladies act that Mother and other women would have taught you if we had grown up as a family. I was trying to help you catch up, so you could fit back into adult society."

"Brother, did you always act like a young gentleman should?" Celena asked.

"People are willing to give a lot more latitude to a young gentleman with an absent father."

"Or any young man. I'll learn the rules, but you make me feel like breaking them makes me less of your sister. And, yes, I know it's not what you actually think." She held up a hand when Allen opened his mouth to protest. "I just... I want a chance to find out who I am, without anyone telling me who I should be."

Allen paused. "I don't know what I can give you to help."

"Just... give me space, Brother. And your confidence that I'll find myself."

"I'll try." Allen didn't know what else to say. He wanted what was best for Celena. He had to hope this was it, since it was what she wanted. He just wasn't sure if he could have faith in her.

She's my sister, Allen repeated to himself. I need to trust she can land on her feet and will come to me if something happens. But the feeling of being in the air, without anything beneath his feet lingered.

"Thank you, Brother."

Allen paused, letting the feeling linger, hoping it would settle. "Did you really mean that? About piloting Scherezade?"

Celena nodded. "I don't know how to fight in an Asturian guymelef, but walking was easy. And moving in combat. Not falling down."

It was something. A lot of recruits had to learn how to translate the natural balance they developed over a decade or more of walking to movement in a shell of metal. His only other options were Van and the diplomatic mess that would turn into, one of Dahlgren's men - who Dahlgren said wouldn't be up to a full guymelef - his own men, who would have the same problem, or having Dahlgren do it alone. "I don't believe I'm even thinking this," he said. "If you can learn how to drill in Scherezade, and follow orders, you and Dahlgren will be better than sending Dahlgren alone." He paused. "And, for the sake of Duke Veris's propriety, we might have to pass you off as a crew member of the Crusade."

Celena gave him a smile. "Cross-dressing is less scandalous than having a woman pilot a war machine?"

"Cross-dressing means that Duke Veris may not look to closely at one particular soldier. Training starts when I can get out of bed."

Celena nodded. "Brother?"

"Yes?"

"I..." she shrugged. "I probably should have mentioned this when you asked, but..." she trailed off. As Allen was about to speak, she finally continued. "When you fell, I got... so angry. It was... it was like Dilandau came back, if only for the fight."

In his mind, Allen couldn't picture his Celena with the truly rageful expression of Dilandau Albatou. But she's not a marble statue, he reminded himself. Real people got angry. Even women, like the queen or Hitomi. Perhaps especially women who grew up as military officers. "Ah... we shall have to work on your temper, Celena, then. If you want. But most people get upset when they see their older brothers fall. A lot of a soldier's discipline is keeping calm enough to not get killed too, even with the world going to he- pieces around them. And most of us can't do it perfectly."

Allen could see Celena's shoulders straighten. "Really? We'll have to add that to my training, then."

"As long as you aren't having that medic poke me with a stick as a test of your resolve," Allen replied sternly, and Celena laughed, in that way she had that reminded him of when they were kids, without a care in the world.

* * *

Some days later, Celena was struck with a profound sense of deja vu as she sat in Scherezade's repaired cockpit.

She had been practicing with Brother in the garrison's yard. Someone had found a motley assortment of men's clothing that were small enough to fit her, and a quick trim had restored her hair to a more boyish cut. Brother had looked disapprovingly at the curls at the floor, despite it having been his idea.

Hence her regular practice began. Men of the Crusade had taken to watching her solo practices and later sparring matches with Sir Dahlgren, calling out enough advice of their own that Brother, seated in a chair with his arm bound in a sling, was forced to not go easy on her just because she was his little sister. She had even caught King Van out of the corner of her eyes during her practices, but he was never around when she disengaged and left her seat. Perhaps for the best.

And, again there had been smoke, and again they had assembled at the garrison's gate, though this time it was her and Sir Dahlgren that would be taking point, and Brother in the Crusade following up. Brother had told her, before they boarded their respective machines that she was as ready as she could be, and that he trusted her to come out on the other side. Still, his parting to her was 'stay safe', rather than any urging to complete the mission.

"Into the foothills this time," Sir Dahlgren yelled before they sealed themselves inside. "He's probably near one of the mining camps. Follow my lead - I remember the quickest way for a guymelef to get there. "

Celena nodded. "An Alseides won't have that constraint," she commented. "They can levitate." She paused, remembering that she was supposed to be a natural prodigy. Hopefully Sir Dahlgren would mistake that for the enthusiasm of a melef fan with a knight older brother telling war stories.

"Depending on how badly he was hurt in the last fight, he might not be able to fight well and fly at the same time. Target any obvious weak points from last time." If she wasn't so nervous about her cover, she might have told him not to teach his grandmother to suck eggs.

It was easier to walk this time, since she had actually acclimated to Scherezade, and had some practice. Still, even with practice, the going was a bit difficult. Celena had to sit back, and let her piloting instincts, vision and inner ears help her keep the guymelef steady on its feet over the rough terrain. Between that and her nose seeking the burnt smell that had led them on last time, she was fully engaged, the distinction between her motions and what the machine turned them into blurred. She stepped with yards-long legs across the terrain, arms shifting to counterbalance.

Sir Dahlgren had dropped behind again and Celena paused to let him catch up. His guymelef's gait was slow and careful, and Celena could see the moments of hesitation and thought as he placed each step. Perhaps he didn't practice enough on rough terrain, or his balance was off. Either way, it would be dangerous in a fight.

After the fifth time, Celena started to hear the crackle of flames, above the sound of water rushing, and the smell of wood burning in her pauses, and the surge of... not excitement, but a sense of alertness and readiness made it hard to wait for Dahlgren. But, no, they were doing this together, or it would have been a waste for Brother to train her.

Sir Dahlgren opened the faceplate as he grew level. "The river is close. It's a fairly steep bank, so we'll have to be careful. Try not to get trapped against the cliff. I don't know if you can make it down in one piece."

Celena nodded. And as long as their opponent could fly, they couldn't say the same for him. They would have to hope Dahlgren's men, taking more circuitous routes, could hold the perimeter en masse, even if individually they would be no threat, and they could close the circle without being trapped themselves between a desperate pilot and the cliff.

She made a 'come on' gesture with Scherezade's arms, and Dahlgren closed up again and they started moving. Hopefully as fast as he could manage - Celena thought she could squeeze some more speed out, but she let Dahlgren set the pace.

She could see the Alseides, in the ashes of what might have been a camp, as they climbed over the last rise, its unpainted metal form with more dents and dings than Celena remembered. Apparently the pilot hadn't found a place to repair his craft. It turned to face them, and Celena dashed left, drawing Scherezade's sword, and trusting Dahlgren to take the right. The enemy followed him, and Celena moved in for an attack. Blocked, as the pilot turned and brought up his Crima claws. Celena gritted her teeth and parried his counterattack, hoping Dahlgren could bring in his own guymelef to attack.

'Who is this pilot?' she wondered. Whoever it was, he was not having the problems that they hoped in fighting two opponents. In fact, Celena found herself having to constantly check where Sir Dahlgren was, lest she trip over him. The pilot had no little skill in getting two opponents to focus more on avoiding each other than attacking him.

They were getting closer to the river, Celena could tell, and she launched a strong offensive, hoping to drive the enemy back towards the relatively firm ground. Instead, the enemy guymelef twisted to the side, in a move Celena wasn't sure was possible unless the pilot was insane, lucky or very, very good. Dilandau might have done it without thinking, but he had been all three.

She noticed too late that Dahlgren had been about to try something. The enemy had sidestepped, heading right towards Dahlgren, who jumped back... and his back foot landed on the downslope. Celena could see him overbalance and knew that gravity would pull him down, and probably into the river. She felt her heart jump into her throat, but she gritted her teeth. It's not like before. Follow up, Celena.

Maybe it was because he wasn't Brother, but she felt her head clear. The Alseides unit, with little puffs of hot air that probably meant the levistones were malfunctioning, but still able to help offset the weight, did a more controlled descent down the slope. If she didn't want Dahlgren to end up burned or speared when he tried to avoid drowning, she'd have to follow.

She walked to the slope, carefully gaging the best way down. In the end, it was more a slide, with her energy left to keep Scherezade on its feet. She nearly lost it at the end, and she could hear the metal scream as she flailed the arms. "Over here!" she shouted, unsure how well her voice would carry over the stream and the roar of battle.

The Alseides had been engaged in wrecking the limbs of Sir Dahlgren's guymelef, much like a small child might do with a trapped insect, but it turned to face her when she yelled. Once she was certain she had its attention, Celena attacked.

She had to struggle to keep her footing on the stream bank. It really meant the two of them were facing off like duelists in the salle. Hard to dodge left or right, with treacherous footing, but no movement to distract her. Celena let herself flow into the rhythm of the thing, trying to get at the bent portions of the Alseides' armor with her sword, and keep her position. Ground like this could mean a waterfall was nearby, and the sound of the river covered it up.

One of them was going to eventually run out of energy. Celena could already feel her motions slowing, and see that the enemy was too. Both had scored some minor touches that would have mattered in a duel, but were just dings to be beaten out later in a real fight. She'd have to hope that the better airflow of an Asturian melef would give her the advantage, but a determined pilot could make up for that.

Above the roar of the river, she heard the sound of propellers. Was that the Crusade? The other pilot heard it too, and there was a moment of distraction.

It was enough. Celena yelled as she drove Scherezade's sword home into the joint of the guymelef, between arm and torso, and she watched the hull crumple, and the guymelef slowly topple over. It had cut through harder than she had expected, but it should have only been a disabling blow.

She saw the crumpled guymelef open up and someone in blood-stained, ill-fitting and warped leathers stagger out. Slowly. He nearly fell off the side climbing down, and collapsed by the side of the stream.

Celena paused. The uniform looked familiar. It wasn't a Dragonslayers uniform, but the design echoed things they had worn in training.

She was without a sword, so it was a dumb thing to do, but she opened up Scherezade and climbed out herself. She approached the enemy, as if he was a dangerous animal that was only playing at being hurt. She had taken a small dagger - more useful as tableware than a weapon - but she felt unarmed. Part of her wanted to ram that knife through the pilot's heart, but she held that in check by sheer force of will. He's defeated. If he lives or dies, let the kingdom deal with him. You are a civilized person.

The figure looked up as she approached. From the ground, close up, Celena looked at a face that was younger than her own, and sickly gray from shock. She could trace darker veins and arteries over the gray, in a way that couldn't be normal, even for the dying. She could see cuts where shrapnel had cut through leather and flesh alike, and burns surrounding them. But she also saw what she thought had been just bad tailoring was something else. "You're a woman, too."

Zaibach had used female pilots before, but the uniform was male, clearly stretched in places and baggy in others where a body would differ between man and woman. Was she another victim of Zaibach sorcery? But all the Dragonslayers - if all the Dragonslayers had been like Dilandau in the first place, rather than just talented recruits - all the Dragonslayers were dead. And Celena didn't remember anyone who looked at all like this.

She knelt down to get a closer look. The enemy's pulse was thready, and there was a lot of blood. The enemy pilot - the woman - looked up at her, her eyes unfocused. "Lord Dilandau?" she mumbled.

Celena started back, and put a booted foot into the stream. How had the woman recognized her? She wasn't even sure if she was still able to see clearly. Maybe she just assumed that any slight pilot with fair hair had to be Dilandau.

"Lord Dilandau? Was that good enough to be a Dragonslayer? They said... they said I wasn't stable enough." She could barely hear the woman. She's dying, Celena thought and she wasn't sure what she could do about it. The Crusade must be looking for a landing place, or letting some ground crew down, but Celena doubted they could do anything without getting her back to the garrison. Too much blood loss.

Celena stepped back to the Zaibach pilot's side, and knelt. Something half-forgotten, a sense of 'these are mine', maybe, said she should answer the woman. And she felt like there was some comfort she could give to the dying, even one who had caused so much havoc. Even one who had nearly taken her Brother from her. "Yeah, that was fine," she said. "You did fine."

Dilandau would have never done that. But Celena was Celena, and there was compassion warring with her anger. Maybe it would have been different if the woman hadn't been gravely wounded in the fight, she couldn't say, but this felt right.

"Can I rest then?"

Celena nodded. "Dismissed, soldier."

The woman smiled, and Celena saw the light leave her eyes. She felt for a pulse just to be sure, but she couldn't find even the faint one she had felt before.

* * *

When he finally been helped down to the streambed where the fight had ended up, Allen saw Celena looking for rocks along the shore. He watched her pick up several, then carry them back to a still form on the bank. He could see drag marks where she had moved it away from the stream itself, so as to not pollute the waters.

"Is that-?"

Celena nodded, and continued burying the body.

Allen took a closer look - seeing Zaibach uniform and the shape of the face and body, and a sick suspicion dawned on him. Celena paused in her work to walk over to him and placed a hand on his good arm. "She's... whatever happened, she's..." but she didn't complete the sentence, merely looked away and returned to her self-appointed task.

Allen looked around, for those of his men who had followed him down. "Gaddes, go make sure Dahlgren is all right. The rest of you lumps, don't just stand there, help the lady!"

He walked with Gaddes to retrieve Dahlgren - wet, bruised and disheveled, but otherwise well - and then listened to his plans for getting his upturned guymelef out of the river. By the time they returned, a respectable cairn was built for the enemy pilot. The men were loitering around as Celena laid the final stone. She then fished some things from her pocket and knelt there.

Puzzled, Allen approached her silently. He wasn't sure if he was meant to see what she was doing, or the offerings she had left.

On the pile of rocks rested a couple of picked wildflowers and a butterfly charm that Celena had bought a couple of weeks ago in Palas. Before she rose and walked back to Allen's men, Celena whispered something Allen could barely hear:

"There, but for the grace of my brother, go I."


End file.
